


Crescendo

by taggianto



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Corruption, Crescendo, Crimes & Criminals, Criminal Empire, Cuddles, Domestic, Enthusiastic Consent, Fingering, Fluff, Light Bondage, M/M, Murder, Murder Husbands, Sexual Content, Smuggling, Wow these tags make this sound a heck of a lot darker than it really is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-06 07:54:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taggianto/pseuds/taggianto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A full day in the life of the Moran-Moriarty household. It's not like they're murdering people constantly - sometimes the banking just needs to get done. Heavily Seb-centric. Set before Tiger, but after Words, In Charge, and pretty much everything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pianissimo

**Author's Note:**

> Started as a sort of prompt-like thing by the lovely [MystradeDoodles](http://mystradedoodles.tumblr.com) back when I first started writing Mormor. She suggested I map out an entire day for them just to get a feel for them, like a simple outline, just a drabble. Well... yeah. Kinda exploded from there.
> 
> A MILLION THANKS AND HUGS AND CUDDLES to [hannah_baker](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/hannah_baker) for putting up with me and helping me through my SEBASTIAN FEELS. And reading this and pushing me to write and getting me through awkward transitions. Separate hearts always for you, love. <3 <3 <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mornings in their flat were actually pretty quiet.

**_5:35 am_ **

Sebastian awoke on his back, just as he did every morning at precisely this time – consciousness fading in like a photograph developing in a darkroom. He drew in a quick breath through his nose before slowly letting it out through his mouth. One arm was thrown back above his head, resting on his pillow, the other was curled protectively around the man at his side. Sebastian glanced down to take in the sight of a calm, quiet Jim Moriarty with his head against his shoulder, his arm around Sebastian’s chest. He allowed himself a few moments to appreciate the feeling of his lover softly nuzzling his side in sleep. If Jim ever found out about the things he did while unconscious, he’d probably never let anyone into his bed ever again. The fact that Sebastian alone was able to see this side of him was something he didn’t take for granted.

He would have been content to lie in bed for several more hours enjoying the quiet comfort of the morning if it wasn’t for the fact that he had to piss like a racehorse. With a frustrated sigh, Sebastian extracted himself from Jim’s grip. Jim made a noise of discontent as Sebastian left, but didn’t wake. Stretching himself to his full 6’2” – elbows out, back arched, an audible snapping and cracking of joints stiff with sleep – Sebastian crossed their bedroom to the adjoining bathroom.

He caught his reflection in the mirror as he entered the bathroom. Sebastian Moran was not a vain man, but nonetheless he paused and took stock, running a hand across his stubble-tinged chin (Jim would never allow him to grow a beard, shame) around to the back of his neck, then up through his sandy blonde hair. It was close cropped in the back, darker roots showing through, a bit longer at the top, bleached by days and years spent under a hot sun. It was getting a bit too long, actually. The last thing he wanted was hair in his eyes as he was lining up a shot.

He let his hand fall down to trace the three lines of paler skin that stood out in stark contrast to the rest of his tanned body, raking from his back over his left shoulder and down to his chest. _That was a shame_ , he thought. He’d lost a little blood that day. The tiger had lost its life. It was a magnificent creature and he’d hated to destroy something so primal in its beauty, but there were lives at stake and he had his orders. He leaned against the countertop, icy blue eyes roaming over several other scars along his chest. Okay, maybe he was a _little_ vain. He pushed away from the sink at last to answer the call of his bladder.

Minutes later, Sebastian padded out of the bathroom and bedroom, heading down the hallway for the kitchen. On the way, he grabbed the TV remote from the back of the sofa in the sitting area and switched it on, quickly muting it. The last thing he needed was to wake Jim before Jim was ready to be woken. He flipped around the various channels, settling at last on the news. Nothing pressing had happened in the night from what he could tell, so he tossed the remote back on the couch and headed into the nearby kitchen. It was a fairly small, open-plan kitchen – a stove, a fridge and a U-shaped bend of counters that ended in a breakfast bar - but it fit their needs. With a yawn, he flipped the switch on the coffee pot (some high-tech automatic thing Jim had insisted they replace their old one with) and spun around to lean on the counter. From here, he could see the TV through the opening in the wall, so he watched the news coverage of some war in Africa with only mild interest.

It was as Sebastian was absorbed in an advert for sugary cereal that he heard a yawn coming from their bedroom (with that adorable little squeak at the end that Jim always fervently denied he actually made). This was shortly followed by the sounds of Jim shuffling around in the bathroom. Grabbing two pans from one of the bottom cupboards, Sebastian set about making breakfast – bacon going into one pan and eggs into another, the beginnings of an omelet.

By the time Jim made his way out to the kitchen, Sebastian had their omelet on a plate in the center of the narrow breakfast bar (the exact center of the breakfast bar) and two mugs of coffee out – black for Jim, milk, one sugar for himself. “Morning,” Sebastian said, pushing Jim’s mug (handle to Jim’s left) closer to the edge of the countertop.

Jim yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he climbed up onto one of the stools. A vague grunt that sounded something like “coffee” was the only acknowledgement Sebastian got. Jim wasn’t exactly a morning person, especially when he hadn’t yet had his coffee.

They ate and drank in silence, Jim sitting on a stool, Sebastian standing in the kitchen leaning against the counter. Jim was the first to speak, some moments later. “What’d you put in this?” he asked. Sebastian just gave him a confused look, so Jim gestured at their plate. “The omelet. It’s different.”

“Oh. Cheese, bacon, green peppers… dash of hot sauce…”

Jim rolled his eyes. “You and your fucking hot sauce.”

“Don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Jim said, which was the closest Jim ever came to complimenting Sebastian’s cooking. Sebastian grinned and took another bite.

**_7:30am_ **

Sebastian was sprawled out on the couch in baggy khaki cargo pants, shirtless, barefoot, his face freshly shaved, hair still damp and spiked at odd angles from his recent shower. His eyes moved back and forth between the MASH rerun on the television screen and Jim Moriarty sitting Indian-style in his leather chair. Jim was already impeccably dressed in a pair of dark designer jeans and a white button-down shirt beneath a black track jacket trimmed in red. He had his laptop open and balanced on his thighs, checking messages and putting together the itinerary for the day.

Outside, the noise and bustle of the city had started to pick up as the world came to life. Inside, they were both still waking up, still waiting for the day to start. An explosion sounded from the television – _oh, Radar…_ – and Jim pulled a small scowl without looking up from his computer. Sebastian automatically turned the volume down a touch. He wasn’t really paying attention to the episode – he’d seen it a few times before – but it was a decent enough distraction, just background noise. He let his gaze roam over Jim’s face, from thin, expressive eyebrows that arched above those impossibly dark chestnut eyes to lips that were pulled down now in a slight scowl. Gorgeous.

Abruptly, Jim closed his laptop and stood, announcing he that he was going into his office. Sebastian simply nodded and watched as Jim walked down the hallway, admiring the view. He was shamelessly ogling his lover this morning, but he didn’t care. Jim certainly knew how to dress himself. And though he would never admit to it, Sebastian suspected Jim appreciated those looks.

Jim turned into the room opposite their bedroom – the room Sebastian never entered without express permission – and shut the door behind him. A few moments later, Sebastian’s mobile buzzed and he grabbed it from the coffee table. New email: the day’s itinerary. _Honey-do list,_ Sebastian thought before he could stop himself. He turned back to the TV, intent on finishing his show before he got up and started on his day.

Twenty minutes later, the first few notes of “Suicide is Painless” rang out and Sebastian pressed the power button on the remote. With a grunt he pushed himself up off the couch and headed down the hall to the bedroom to see about finding a shirt. He finally settled on a black button-down in a military style cut. Sebastian checked the label – Diesel – which didn’t mean anything to him, but he knew Jim had a thing for dressing him in the latest designers.  Jim insisted it was because Sebastian was representing the Moriarty brand. Sebastian insisted it was because Jim liked his husband to look damn good. At which point Jim usually yelled at him for using the “H Word” and sulked until Sebastian cheered him up with a good murder or three.

They weren’t your run-of-the-mill couple.

Slipping into his boots, Sebastian grabbed his army knife from the bedside table and snapped it into the sheath on his belt. His mobile got a similar treatment once he had double checked the email Jim had sent him.  He leaned through the doorway of the bathroom to take a quick look in the mirror and ran a hand through his hair (not vain), then marched out of the bedroom. He grabbed an old pair of Oakleys from the table in the hallway and slipped them on. Jim had bought him several newer, more stylish sunglasses but Sebastian always insisted on wearing the old ones he’d had since before they’d met.

Double-checking that he had his keys, his wallet and his phone, he headed out of the front door and into the morning sunlight. Time to start.


	2. Piano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first two stops on Sebastian's itinerary were anything but ordinary...

**_9:00 am_ **

The first stop on Jim’s list for Sebastian was Barclays. The tall glass building of One Churchill Place reflected and refracted the early morning light like a thousand individual mirrors as Sebastian walked from the Canary Wharf tube station. Passing under the large stainless steel awning of the main entrance, Sebastian entered the bank headquarters and made his way to the information desk.

A cute redhead in a posh uniform greeted him. “Good morning, sir. Can I help you?”

“Sebastian Moran, for Marcel Richards.” He leaned against the desk, absently straightening the pens scattered across the glass countertop.

“One moment, sir.” Her eyes lingered a bit too long on Sebastian and he gave her a sly smile. Instantly blushing, she flicked her gaze to her computer screen. She picked up the phone and punched a few numbers, eyes running over Sebastian again. “Mr. Richards? A Sebastian Moran to see you, sir. Yes, sir. I will, sir.” She hung up and addressed Sebastian again. “Mr. Richards will be right down for you,” she said, twisting her hair casually.

“Thank you…” Sebastian glanced at her name tag, “…Jessica.” She blushed again and Sebastian wondered to himself what Jim would do if he could see how obviously she was flirting with him. The thought had the corner of his mouth twitching in a grin (which poor Jessica thought was for her) when the ding of the lift signaled the arrival of the man he was here to see.

“Ah, Colonel Moran!” the man called across the lobby, crossing and extending a plump, ring-covered hand.

Sebastian shook it and gave a crisp nod. “Marcel.”

The man looked up (way up). “So good to see you, yes, good indeed. So how is business?”

“Lucrative,” Sebastian answered.

Marcel’s mouth curled into an unsettling smirk, toothy and expectant. “Excellent, mm yes, excellent. Well… shall we?” he asked, gesturing toward the lift. Sebastian nodded his approval and the two men rode up to Marcel’s private office.

Two hours later, Sebastian emerged clutching a thick folder of reports and financial statements. Marcel shook his hand as they crossed the lobby toward the exit (“Thank you for doing, ah, business with us, yes. Do keep in touch!”) and Sebastian gave a nod to Jessica as he left (“Have a good day, sir!”).

Sebastian scanned the sidewalk as he exited the building. There, on the right – a man was waiting by a bench on a black ten-speed bicycle, a distinctive leather backpack open on his back. Sebastian crossed over to him and slipped the folder into the waiting backpack. The cyclist simply nodded, mounted the bike and rode off down the busy street, quickly getting lost in the bustle of traffic. The files would be in Jim’s hands within the hour.

**_11:30am_ **

Sebastian checked the address on his phone as he walked along the row of townhouses. Reaching number 342, he rapped twice upon the green door and stood back with his arms crossed. The door opened a crack and one brown eye peeked through. “Who’re you, then?” asked a voice.

“Colonel Moran. I represent Moriarty,” Sebastian answered in an even tone.

The door closed abruptly and there was the sound of a chain lock being dragged open. Then it was suddenly flung wide and a young man – no older than 23 at the most – stood beaming in the doorway. He was in white shorts, white trainers, and a polo shirt in a rather garish shade of pink. His collar was popped and his hair was spiked within an inch of its life. “Colonel Moran? Oh, excellent! Jacob Windsor-Bartlett,” he said, extending a hand and shaking Sebastian’s. “Great to finally meet you. We were wondering if Moriarty had forgotten about us, seeing as we hadn’t heard anything from anyone for, y’know, weeks. Hey, come on in!”

“Windsor-Bartlett?” Sebastian asked as he stepped up into the townhouse. “Any relation to James Windsor-Bartlett, MP?”

Jacob nodded as he led Sebastian down a white-paneled hallway. “Yeah, that’s dad. Annoying at times, but bloody useful when things need, y’know,” he waved a hand vaguely in the air, “cleaning up. Anyway, right this way.” Jacob reached a carpeted staircase and made his way up, taking the stairs two at a time.

Sebastian glanced around the townhouse. It was obvious, from the highly abstract art hung along the wall to the jarring pops of bright orange amid the otherwise neutral color palette, that it had been furnished by some fancy interior decorator. It was also obvious that this was a young man’s bachelor pad. In the living room Sebastian was passing, elegant modern tables and chairs in stainless steel and white were hidden under piles of magazines, empty pizza boxes, beer cans and video game controllers. He stepped over a discarded cricket bat to follow Jacob up the stairs.

Reaching the top, Jacob led Sebastian down yet another hallway, pausing to bang on one of the closed doors. “Oi! Get up! Guy from Moriarty’s here!” There was a sleepy, muffled reply that sounded something like _fuck off_ which just caused Jacob to bang on the door again. He gave Sebastian a look over his shoulder that obviously said _sorry about that_ before continuing on down the hallway.

Jacob opened the last door on the right and entered, Sebastian close behind. It was an average-sized bedroom that had been turned into a sort of office. A desk with several computer monitors balanced atop it had been pushed against the far wall, beneath windows draped in light-blocking curtains. Shelves lined another wall entirely, stocked with several glass aquariums of various sizes. Each tank had a lamp above it which cast the room in a dull orange glow. They held a vast array of creatures from fat hairy tarantulas to brightly colored tortoises to thick speckled snakes. A particularly large aquarium on the floor contained a young caiman, about a foot in length.

Jacob waved at the wall. “My own humble collection. Think of it as a… sample set.” Sebastian leaned in with his hands behind his back to inspect one of the tanks. A large yellow scorpion was crouched in one corner, soaking up the heat from the lamp attached to the top. _“Leiurus quinquestriatus_ ,” Jacob said, catching Sebastian’s gaze. “Personal favorite of mine. Known as the ‘Deathstalker’ to locals. Generally regarded as the most venomous scorpion in the world.” He smiled proudly.

“Some would argue that _Hottentotta tamulus_ would hold that distinction,” Sebastian said. “Though its venom attacks the cardiovascular and pulmonary systems, whereas _Leiurus_ is primarily a neurotoxin, so that’s rather like comparing apples to oranges.” He stood and faced the young man, hands still clasped behind his back.

“Ah, um… well yeah,” Jacob said, flustered. He was obviously used to being the most knowledgeable person in the room and Sebastian’s comment came as a bit of a surprise. “A-anyway. Um. Like I said, that’s just my collection. Obviously we keep most of our stock outside of the city.” Recovering, Jacob sat down at the computer desk and hit the power on two of the monitors.

Jacob was halfway through explaining the smuggling process to an intrigued Sebastian hovering over his shoulder when there was a knock on the open doorframe. They both turned as a third man entered the room. “Took you long enough,” Jacob muttered under his breath before indicating Sebastian. “This is Colonel Moran.”

“Marcus Jones, but call me Mark, mate,” the newcomer said, crossing the room to take Sebastian’s hand in a powerful grip.

“Mark’s the brawn of the outfit here,” Jacob said. “Best croc wrangler this side of the Sahara.”

Sebastian cast a critical eye over Mark as Jacob returned to explaining the operation. The man was very tan, with powerful shoulders and callused hands – obviously someone accustomed to hard work outdoors. He was short, but solidly built and probably a bit older than Jacob. _Very promising,_ Sebastian thought, _definitely someone to keep an eye on, possibilities for promotion if things went in his favor_.

Jacob was explaining that though they mostly dealt in illegal reptiles, tarantulas and scorpions, they were interested in expanding their markets to larger animals. “The larger snakes, komodo dragons, monkeys – people are always looking for monkeys – and the big cats of course. That’s our number one request, cats. We just can’t, y’know, handle them right now.”

Sebastian wondered to himself what Jim would do if he tried to smuggle a tiger into their flat. Not that Jim would ever let them get a pet. Well, maybe he could be convinced to let them get a regular cat. He was brought out of his thoughts when he realized Mark was talking to him.

“…so what we’re really looking for is an investment, maybe some connections, right? Maybe a bit of help on the back end, trouble with customs and whatnot.” The two smugglers looked to Sebastian expectantly.

After a moment, he gave a crisp nod. “You’ve a very impressive organization going here – the start of one at least. I think we should be able to do business.”

Mark returned Sebastian’s nod and Jacob grinned like it was Christmas day and he’d just been given exactly what he’d asked for. They made their way back downstairs and Sebastian shook both of their hands again, assuring them that various members of the organization would be in touch. Once the two men had gone back inside, Sebastian pulled out his mobile itinerary. Next stop, lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> much love for [hannah_baker](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/hannah_baker) as always for helping me through the editing process on this.
> 
> Chapter three is written, but I will wait to post until Chapter four is fleshed out. Stay tuned!


	3. Mezzo Forte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch and a treat.

**_12:15pm_ **

Sebastian’s itinerary specified which café he was to go to for lunch which probably meant… yup, there he was, sitting at one of the little tables outside the café. Jim was still in his track jacket and jeans, though he’d added a pair of sunglasses (Gucci, probably cost more than every pair Sebastian had ever owned. Combined.)

Sebastian swallowed the urge to greet his lover with a kiss or a touch – Jim was in Business Mode and while the punishment he’d get later that night for doing either of those things would be delightful, Sebastian didn’t want to push his luck. He was just happy he was getting to see Jim at all today; their schedules didn’t usually line up. Jim spent most of his business hours locked away in his office, so whatever had him out and about in the city must have been special. Apparently, it wasn’t on Sebastian’s need-to-know list.

Jim looked up as Sebastian approached. “Really? The Diesel top again? I have bought you other shirts, you know.”

“Shut up, I like this shirt,” Sebastian said as he slid into the chair opposite. “And I know you like it on me.” Jim arched his eyebrows and shot him a look that Sebastian could clearly see was a warning, despite the dark sunglasses. He was instantly submissive. “Sorry.”

The waitress came by to take their orders – caprese panini and water for Jim, buffalo chicken wrap and a soda for Sebastian. They sat in comfortable silence, Jim tapping out a rhythm on his knee with a pen as he casually observed the other café patrons. Sebastian fiddled with the condiments on the table, twisting the salt shaker so it lined up with the pepper. He then sat back, crossed his arms and let his eyes roam over Jim, thankful for his own dark lenses.

The midday sunlight made Jim’s already pale skin seem even lighter. He was scribbling on the back of a napkin now, a complex diagram of some sort. It was obviously something he was excited about, judging by the way the corner of his mouth kept twitching in a slight (some might have said unnerving) smile. Fuck, he loved that mouth. They’d more or less been together for the better part of five years – married for three – and yet Sebastian was still amazed by the man sitting across from him.

Their orders arrived, earning Sebastian a sly hot sauce comment from Jim.

Jim was baffling at times, especially in the way he seemed to be able to detach himself from all feeling in order to concentrate on the job at hand. When he was in Business Mode (as Sebastian always thought of it in his head) there was no warmth behind his eyes, no love in his words. He was giving orders to an employee, not his husband. Sebastian supposed he should probably be hurt by this, at least somewhat, but the truth was he was grateful. With work as fraught with danger as theirs was, emotions could only compromise a delicate situation. He needed Jim to be the cold, calculating Moriarty at times. His life, both their lives, often depended on it.

Sebastian couldn’t do it though, couldn’t block out his emotions, the way he felt. He’d tried, several times, to look at Jim without feeling anything, to be just as cold and calculating, but he couldn’t. Jim would rub his nose or lick his lips or do something so _human_ that Sebastian’s heart would flutter. Eventually he stopped trying to fight it. He never wanted to lose what he felt for Jim, he realized, even if it was only temporary. Jim could be the mind, Sebastian would be the heart.

This was nice, though. It wasn’t often he got to spend time with Jim during the day. The demands of a criminal empire were vast and far-reaching and didn’t leave much room in his schedule for a lunch date with one’s husband. Not that Jim would ever admit this was a date. Probably in his mind it was a business luncheon. Sebastian was okay with this – he knew the real reason Jim wanted to meet him for lunch, even if Jim wouldn’t admit it himself.

“The fuck are you smiling about, Sebastian?” Jim asked, swallowing a mouthful of panini and effectively pulling Sebastian out of his thoughts.

“Nothing, boss,” Sebastian replied with a shake of his head. _Business mode._

Jim arched an eyebrow but didn’t press it further. “I need you to stop by NIMR,” he said after a moment. “The Margrie group is making some interesting headway in their synaptic inhibition research.” Jim had investments in several research organizations throughout the country. It was always useful to have access to up and coming developments.

“That’s almost an hour out of my way, Jim,” Sebastian said, slightly annoyed. “You know I need time to get ready for tonight.”

“You’ll do as you’re told, Colonel,” Jim said, a note of command in his voice. _Colonel._ He was on thin ice, apparently. Sebastian nodded, causing Jim to smirk as he finished the last bite of his sandwich. “Good boy. Just stop in, meet with the research team and subtly remind them who’s funding their little projects.”

“Yes, sir,” Sebastian said, licking the hot sauce from one of his fingers.

Jim stood and brushed nonexistent crumbs from his lap. “And don’t worry,” he said, sliding out of Business Mode with practiced ease as he circled behind Sebastian. He ran a hand lightly along his shoulders and Sebastian shivered visibly at the touch. “You’ll have plenty of time to get ready for _tonight._ ” He gave Sebastian’s upper arm a quick squeeze before heading off down the sidewalk.

Sebastian cleared his throat and signaled for the waitress, heart beating just a tiny bit faster. “Check please.”

**_2:15pm_ **

The taxi ride out to the National Institute for Medical Research campus in Mill Hill actually only took thirty-eight minutes, but it was completely out of Sebastian’s way and meant he’d have to backtrack later to round off the rest of his itinerary. He checked the time on his phone irritably as he climbed the worn stone steps up to the massive brick building. This was going to be cutting it close. He needed to get back to the flat by at least quarter to five in order to have enough time to prepare for tonight, and he still needed to run to the shops and pick up the dry cleaning.

Sebastian pushed through the front doors of the research facility. Not everything Jim Moriarty had his hands in was strictly illegal. Money flowed out from his various bank accounts and into the collection tins of countless research and volunteer organizations throughout the country. Anything that sparked Jim’s interest – or might come in handy at a later date – eventually found themselves being handed a sizeable check from some obscure foundation. The NIMR was one of Jim’s pet projects – he had funding in nearly half of the research teams on the campus.

Yet another receptionist at yet another information desk pointed him in the direction of the Margrie Group lab. He elected to take the stairs at the end of the hall – waiting for elevators always seemed like such a waste of time – and found the lab easily enough. A knock on the frosted glass of the laboratory door caused a blurry shape to make its way over. The door opened and a short woman with a tight ponytail of blazing red hair cast a critical eye over Sebastian. “Can I help you?”

“Sergey Wilkes,” he said, sliding into an alias. “I’m from the Von Herder Foundation.”

Nodding, she motioned toward where a man in a worn blue sweater vest was hunched in front of a computer. “That’s Troy,” she said before heading back to the cage of mice she was preparing. He didn’t fail to notice the way her eyes ran the length of his body as she walked away.

The man she had indicated turned and gave a friendly wave to Sebastian. “Be with you in a moment!” he called before turning back to the computer. Sebastian glanced at the time on his phone again, then took the chance to observe the laboratory. Counters topped with a vast array of technical instrumentation lined the perimeter of the room, humming quietly. Large windows along the opposite wall let in a great deal of natural light that filtered in through the various glass containers beneath. One countertop was devoted to several cages of tan and brown mice that ran merrily along on squeaky wheels.

After a few more moments of furious typing, Troy stood and crossed to Sebastian, extending a hand. “Sorry about that, had to get it all down before it just floated away. Troy Margrie,” His smile was warm and inviting as he took Sebastian’s hand. “So! Here to see how Mr. Von Herder’s money is being put to use, hmm?”

“Something like that,” Sebastian answered with a curt nod, trying to hold back his frustration. Every minute spent here was a minute that could be spent getting ready for tonight. But Jim had wanted him to check in with this research, and he was nothing if not obedient to his boss.

“Well!” Troy said, clapping his hands together. “To give a brief overview, we’re looking into how sound location is represented by synaptic input arriving onto pyramidal cells in mice.”

“Within the primary auditory cortex?” Sebastian asked, intrigued in spite of himself.

Troy seemed pleasantly surprised. “Ah, a man of science yourself, I see. Cambridge?”

“Oxford.”

“Well, I won’t hold that against you,” he said with a chuckle. He then walked Sebastian through the finer points of their work with the mice and Sebastian found himself warming to the funny little man in the sweater vest. He got rather caught up in Troy’s enthusiastic descriptions of his work, easily keeping on par with the man’s jargon. It felt good to be in such an academic situation again.

Wait a minute… was that why Jim had sent him here? As a reward for running all the other errands? Sebastian shook his head with a chuckle. The sneaky bastard. He could never just say outright that he was doing something nice – there had to be layer upon layer of subtext concealing it.

By the time Sebastian insisted (for the third time) that he had to leave, they’d made plans for Sebastian to attend the next demonstration in the lab as well as the department’s quarterly luncheon the following month. Sebastian actually returned Troy’s smile as he shook his hand to leave. The redhead shook his hand as well, not-so-subtly pressing a scrap of paper into his palm as she did so. She winked and went back to her mice. Sebastian briefly considered leaving the phone number somewhere he knew Jim would find it when he got home – the man was rather fun when he got jealous.

**_4:55pm_ **

Sebastian tossed his keys onto the hallway table as he trudged into the flat. He had the bags of shopping in his left hand – milk, eggs, broccoli, lube – and Jim’s freshly dry-cleaned suits slung over his right shoulder. He dumped the shopping unceremoniously on the kitchen counter and turned to head down the hall toward the bedroom. Muffled sounds were coming from Jim’s office as he passed the closed door, but he didn’t linger to try and make out what they were. He just headed into their bedroom and crossed to Jim’s walk-in closet.

The closet itself was meticulous in its organization - one side for suits, one side for everyday clothing, shoes in cubbies along the floor, ties hanging on a rack along the back wall. Sebastian checked the labels on the suits in his hands – Westwood, Gucci, Armani… each went into its respective section. Each suit hung precisely and evenly spaced, ordered by designer and then by color.

When Sebastian had first moved in, there had been no rhyme or reason to the closet space – suits were intermixed with shirts and vests and hoodies and various disguise components. It had driven him absolutely insane. It was after they’d been living together for a few months that Jim had gone on an extended business trip to Japan. After a week alone in the flat, Sebastian had snapped and attacked the closet armed with diagrams, a ruler and a plan. True to form, Jim didn’t acknowledge it when he finally got back from Tokyo, though it did take him a considerably shorter time to get ready in the mornings from that point on.

Suits hung, Sebastian returned to the kitchen to put away the shopping. Grabbing a protein bar from one of the cupboards, he opened the package with his teeth and took a bite as he headed toward the basement stairs.

The day wasn’t over yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, all my love to [hannah_baker](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/hannah_baker) for her patient and enthusiastic help with this (and her wonderful FEELS suggestions that just make my murder husbands even more adorable). MorMorBFFs 5ever.
> 
> Just two chapters left, time to turn up the volume :3


	4. Forte

**_5:15pm_ **

The basement wasn’t dank or damp or dusty or any other sort of depressing adjective that usually applied to the basements of hardened criminals. It was clean and utilitarian, with cement floors and exposed beams, bare light bulbs mounted here and there. One corner was set up for working out - the floor and walls were lined with mats and a heavy bag hung from a hook in the ceiling. The cupboard containing their sparring equipment stood next to a rack of free weights and Sebastian found himself itching for a round or two against Jim. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a proper match. Another night, perhaps. Right now, there was work to do.

Sebastian pulled a ring of keys from his pocket as he turned to open the gun cage by the stairs. The black chain link gate rattled and scraped across the floor as he pushed it open. He made his way to the back of the enclosure, running a hand lovingly across the multiple steel cabinets as he passed them. Semi automatics, pistols, ammunition – he stopped when he reached the tallest cabinet at the back. Leaning against it with one hand and absently stroking it with his thumb, he flipped through his keys again.

Cabinet unlocked, Sebastian opened the double doors and ran his eyes over the rifles within. Hello, ladies. Savage 110 BA. Barrett XM500 (it’d been too long since he’d been able to have any fun with the 50cal, shame). Blaser Tactical 2. XM2010 ESR. But the one at the end of the line was his AWM L115A1, the gun he’d had with him in Afghanistan. It had taken a number of lives in the war, but it had taken even more since he’d started working for Jim. It would be perfect for tonight. He hitched the rifle onto his shoulder and locked the cabinet.

Sebastian crossed the basement to his workbench, took his place on the metal stool and yanked the chain for the overhead light. He cleared away a few diagrams and notebooks before spreading a cloth along the countertop and setting the rifle down.

There was a corkboard hanging above the workbench full of carefully organized notes, formulas for trajectory calculations, caliber conversion charts and that one hot sauce advert Jim had tacked up as a joke and Sebastian had simply never taken down. In the bottom corner next to Sebastian’s inventory checklist was a photo of him on a beach with Jim. Technically, the Jamaica trip had been for business, but seeing as they had gone there only a few weeks after Jim had dragged him (admittedly without much resistance) to the registrar to formalize their relationship, Sebastian always thought of Jamaica as their honeymoon. There’d certainly been enough sex on the beach to qualify it as such.

They were both in the board shorts they’d bought at a local surf shop – black and gray stripes for Jim, bright blue and orange Hawaiian print for Sebastian – sitting at the water’s edge. Sebastian had an arm around Jim’s waist. It had been taken by a local strolling by with Polaroid and a knack for business – the photo could be theirs for just fifty Jamaican dollars! Jim was ready to snap the man’s neck for daring to blackmail them (as he put it), but Sebastian calmed him down, did a quick conversion in his head, and figured they could afford the 37p it would take to buy the man off.

It wasn’t the only photograph he had of the two of them together, but it was the only one where Jim actually looked relaxed. Vain as he was, the man hated getting his picture taken.

Sebastian went through the steps of disassembling his rifle, cleaning each individual component and setting them neatly on the cloth on the workbench. It was his form of meditation; it allowed him to clear his mind and ready himself for the job. The floorboards creaked overhead and he listened to the sound of Jim’s footsteps as he made his way from his office to the kitchen. Just as Sebastian knew not to disturb Jim in his office, Jim knew not to disturb Sebastian during his pre-hit ritual.

Rifle cleaned and packed away in the black duffel bag he used for night hits, Sebastian pulled the chain on the light over his workbench and made his way upstairs. He ducked into the bedroom to change – black long-sleeve athletic top, black leather gloves, black trousers, black cross-country trainers. Jim often joked that he looked like a living silhouette when he was dressed to kill.

Jim was sitting on stool at the breakfast bar with a mug of tea and his laptop as Sebastian made his way down the hallway. He caught Jim’s eyes drifting over his body. “See something you like?” Sebastian asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Always,” Jim answered. He nodded at the bag slung over Sebastian’s shoulder. “Have fun,” he said, then pitched his voice high in a sickly-sweet drawl. “You know I’m ever so worried when you go out at night, darling.”

“Well now, don’t let it keep you up, dearest,” Sebastian cooed, matching Jim’s tone.

They joked, but Jim could never quite mask the concern in his eyes whenever he sent his sniper off on a job.

**_7:48pm_ **

The texts started before he’d even gotten to the end of their street.

_You look good in those tight black trousers, Tiger._

_I’m bored already, is he dead yet?_

_Where do you keep the knife sharpener?_

_Nevermind._

_I’m making stir-fry for dinner. Save you the leftovers?_

_And before you ask, no I didn’t burn the place down. Honestly, I don’t know where you get the idea that I’m such a bad cook._

_I can see you on the CCTV feed :)_

_It’s rude to flip off the CCTV, Sebastian >:(_

The texts continued the entire time Sebastian was walking toward his destination. He couldn’t help but smile at Jim’s one-way conversation; it was actually rather endearing.

Though the cooking thing made him a little nervous.

He reached the building he was looking for and made his way to the back entrance (unlocked, the janitor had been generously compensated). On the third floor he found a conveniently placed ladder beneath a service hatch in the ceiling ( _very_ generously compensated). Hoisting himself and his rifle up into the crawlspace, he shimmied along on his stomach toward where he knew there was an air vent.

The crawlspace was dusty, hot, cramped and stifling but the vent gave a perfect shot angle down and into the second floor flat across the street. Sebastian did his best to set up his rifle in the limited space available, adjusting the bipod at the muzzle to accommodate the position of the vent. He slotted the scope into place and went about dialing in the sights.

And now the wait. It was times like this that Sebastian longed for a cigarette. But even if Jim hadn’t made him quit back when they’d first moved in together, it wouldn’t be wise. Tobacco ash at a crime scene was dangerous with a Holmes running loose around London.

Half an hour before the intended hit time, he got one last text message. It simply read, _Be careful._ Equal parts order and concern. Sebastian smiled as he slipped his phone into his pocket and checked the scope again.

**_8:50pm_ **

Oh, for Christ’s sake, if that wasn’t the most obviously fake orgasm face he’d ever seen in his life… Sebastian rolled his eyes as he watched the proceedings across the street through the crosshairs. The performance was like a silent pantomime; similar to those Charlie Chaplain films Jim had made him watch. Only this wasn’t funny, it was just boring. The mark had his back to the bedroom window, pounding relentlessly into the brunette on his bed. Her mouth was moving, no doubt making what Sebastian assumed were very practiced, very scripted noises.

Finally, the man’s thrusts became erratic and he arched his back as he came. There were a few moments of post-coital kissing, and then the brunette was shifting off the bed to grab her scattered clothes and re-dress. The mark was flopped on his back on the bed, saying something that earned him a pair of boxers tossed playfully at his chest. He grinned as he slipped them on, and Sebastian momentarily lost visual as they exited the bedroom.

Ah, there they were, in the living room, saying goodbye. A few more moments of kisses, then the brunette was out the door as the man answered an apparently ringing mobile phone. Good, that would be the wife then, establishing her alibi just as she’d been instructed. Not long now.

The man in the flat hung up and tossed his mobile onto the couch. He crossed to a cupboard and pulled out a bottle – whiskey, from what Sebastian could tell – and a highball glass. With a smug grin on his face, he poured himself a generous helping, taking a swig from the bottle for good measure.

Bolt back, round chambered.

With a swagger in his step, the man walked the last few paces to stand at the full-length windows of the flat, looking out into the dark of the night. He raised the glass to his lips.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in, squeeze the trigger as the breath is released, follow through.

A spray of crimson and the shattering of glass; whiskey splashed across a floor that was quickly soaked with blood.

And there was that familiar heat building within Sebastian as he gazed through the scope at his handiwork. The rush, the thrill of taking a life. He quickly disassembled his rifle and stowed it its bag. There was only one thing on his mind right now.

He sent a text.

_On my way, babe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so much fun to write, especially Jim's little text conversation. He's such an adorable idiot :3
> 
> Much thanks, love and flails, again, to [hannah_baker](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/hannah_baker) for her help on this chapter (though admitedly this time they mostly consisted of FEELS comments, so I must be doing something right XD). <3 ,# 
> 
> One more chapter to go!


	5. Fortissimo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to turn up the volume.

**_9:23pm_ **

Sebastian sent several text messages as he jogged back to the flat.

_Through the head, no witnesses. Single shot._

_Of course it was a single shot, why do I even need to tell you that?_

_Guy had white carpeting and a white couch. You should’ve seen the spray pattern. Elegant._

_I live for this rush. I’d kill for you every day if you let me._

_Fuck, I want you right now babe._

_Sod that, I fucking need you. Soon as I get in that flat, you are mine._

_I’ve taken more than my share of orders for the day. Time to issue one of my own._

_Tonight, I own you._

Sebastian practically sprinted up the five cement steps to the front door of their ground floor flat, made quick work of the lock and pushed his way in. Dropping his rifle bag by the hall closet and bolting the door behind him, he slipped out of his boots and made his way toward the kitchen.

Jim was in the exact same position he’d been in when Sebastian had left – on the breakfast bar stool, scrolling through something on his laptop, mobile next to him on the counter. He was doing his best to look absolutely disinterested in Sebastian’s presence, but his jeans were a bit too tight to hide the fact that Sebastian’s texts had been having an effect.

Fuck, he was gorgeous.

Sebastian didn’t waste any time. He crossed the room in three confident strides, snapped Jim’s laptop shut and spun him around on the stool. Before Jim could protest, Sebastian was on him in a greedy kiss. He needed this, god, did he need this. This connection. This touch. This _everything_ that was Jim Moriarty, the man he loved, the man he had killed for, the man he would die for if ever it came to that. He brought both his hands up to Jim’s face, pulling him in, running both his thumbs along Jim’s stubble-tinged jawline. Sebastian was a bit lightheaded from the rush of the kill, the rush to the flat, and now – with Jim in his hands – the inevitable rush of blood south.

He needed to be closer. Sebastian spread Jim’s legs and pulled him in tight, never breaking the kiss. Jim allowed himself to be moved where Sebastian wanted him, needed him, falling into that familiar calming sensation of knowing that Sebastian was here, he was his, and that he would take care of him. Everything else faded from existence and he was left only with the insatiable feeling of _want._

Jim broke away to breathe out Sebastian’s name, offering up his neck for attention. Sebastian eagerly obliged, working all the spots he knew drove Jim wild – just below his ear, along his jugular, right where his neck met his shoulder – using his tongue and a hint of teeth. He brought his hands down to Jim’s hips and slid him forward on the stool, causing Jim to immediately wrap his legs around Sebastian’s waist and bring his arms up around Sebastian’s neck.

They worked in tandem, each knowing instinctively what the other wanted. But Sebastian needed to hear it for himself. They always asked, even when the answer was obvious. “I want to fuck you…” he murmured into Jim’s ear, savoring the sounds that his lover was making. “I want to take you and suck you and make you forget your own fucking _name_.” Sebastian drew in a deep breath, full of Jim’s scent – cologne and ink and stir-fry and _Jim_. “Is that what you want?”

“You get so poetic when you’re horny, dear,” Jim teased, threading his hands through Sebastian’s hair. It was getting a bit too long, Jim thought. He’d have to schedule an appointment–

Sebastian chose that moment to pull Jim completely off the stool, supporting his lover’s weight with both hands on his bottom. He could tell when Jim was starting to slip back into his own mind. “Eyes on me. I asked you a question. Answer it,” he ordered.

Jim’s eyes instantly locked with Sebastian’s. “Take me.”

Sebastian didn’t need to be told twice. He carried Jim to their bedroom, not forgetting to grab the new bottle of lube from the kitchen counter before he did so.

**_10:13pm_ **

Sebastian sat Jim on the edge of their bed. Hands flew to buttons as they each hastily undid their own shirts and shrugged them off. Then Sebastian was sinking to his knees, running his hands along Jim’s thighs as Jim pulled his undershirt over his head. Sebastian didn’t even bother taking his off – all his focus was on Jim. He sat back on his heels and leaned forward to nuzzle along the bulge in Jim’s jeans, feeling him strain against the fabric. He pressed a kiss to the denim before bringing his hands up to undo Jim’s zipper. Jim was leaning back on his hands, head thrown back, staring at their ceiling with unfocused eyes.

Zipper undone, Sebastian started to slide Jim’s jeans down, revealing pale skin beneath. No pants. Oh god, had he not had any on at lunch either? Sebastian’s mind momentarily flashed blank at the thought. He looked up to Jim, who arched his eyebrows and smirked. God, he hadn’t, had he? Sebastian shook his head slightly to clear it which had Jim chuckling softly. Sebastian patted at his hips to get him to lift off the bed.

He took a moment to drink in the sight of his lover, naked above him, pale skin starting to flush with arousal. He rested his hands on both of Jim’s thighs and raised himself up on his knees to kiss along Jim’s neck. Jim brought his head down and found Sebastian’s mouth and they were momentarily lost in the slow slide of tongues and lips.

Finally breaking away from the kiss, Sebastian started trailing down Jim’s chest, kissing and licking, paying especially close attention to Jim’s sensitive nipples. Jim was soon breathing heavy and whimpering for Sebastian’s touch.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Sebastian murmured against heated skin. He paused as he suddenly remembered something. “What would you think about getting a cat?”

“Are you seriously asking me that _now?_ ” Jim asked with narrowed eyes.

“I’m curious,” Sebastian said innocently as his hand moved onto Jim’s hardening cock in a motion that was far from innocent.

“Sebastian Moran we are not having this conversation right – _fuck –_ now,” Jim hissed as Sebastian finally made contact.

“Come on, babe. It might be fun, little paws running around the flat.” Sebastian stroked Jim long and slow, punctuating the end of his sentence with that little flick across the head that he knew always drove Jim insane.

“Just shut up and get your mouth around my dick,” Jim practically panted. Ever the romantic.

Sebastian smirked. “With pleasure.” Keeping one hand at the base, he leaned forward to press a kiss to the very tip of Jim’s cock, light and teasing. Then he parted his lips to slide his tongue in slow circles that had Jim sighing and closing his eyes at the sensation. Sebastian’s free hand was resting on Jim’s side now, just above the line of his hips, his thumb stroking absently at Jim’s skin.

“You are such a fucking tease, you little –”

The rest of Jim’s sentence was lost in a long moan as Sebastian finally took him in his mouth and swallowed to the base of Jim’s cock with practiced ease. He massaged Jim with his tongue for a moment before sliding back off. “You were saying?” Sebastian asked, voice husky. He brought his hand back to massage Jim’s shaft as he slipped the head back into his mouth and sucked.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing, don’t stop…” Jim leaned forward, one hand on Sebastian’s shoulders, the other running through Sebastian’s hair in subtle encouragement. Sebastian chuckled through his nose without breaking rhythm.

One hand snaked up to play across Jim’s chest, pinching at a pert nipple. Sebastian looked up to see Jim’s eyes were closed and his mouth hung slack jawed, breath coming hot and heavy. Then those big brown eyes were opening and locking on Sebastian’s and the connection was so electric that Sebastian was soon moaning right along with him.

“Bastian…” Jim choked out, bracing himself with both hands on Sebastian’s shoulders. “Bastian I’m gonna… gonna…”

Sebastian immediately pulled off and squeezed a rough hand at the base of Jim’s cock, earning him a frustrated squeak. “Didn’t think I was gonna make it that easy, now did you?” With a slap to Jim’s thigh, he pushed himself off the floor and over to the dresser beneath the bedroom window.

Confident that Jim knew better than to touch himself, Sebastian slipped out of his own trousers, pants and shirt. Jim flopped back on the bed and threw one arm across his eyes; the other clenched a fistful of sheets. Sebastian took a moment to savor the image of a frustrated Jim before making his way back to their bed. In one hand he had the new bottle of lube, in the other a length of nylon cord. Jim moved his arm when he felt the dip in the mattress and glanced at the cord in Sebastian’s hand. “What are you planning on –”

Sebastian cut him off with a kiss. He then pulled back slightly, lips still brushing against Jim’s as he spoke. “I’m just going to tie your hands, okay?”

Jim rolled his eyes but nodded his consent. “Just don’t take forever this time, got it?” He pushed himself up and onto his knees. “I want you inside me,” he said with a snap of his teeth as Sebastian moved to kneel behind him.

Sebastian chuckled. “Patience, love. Now hush or I’ll get the gag.” He pulled both of Jim’s arms behind his back and crossed his wrists. Grabbing the nylon cord, he wrapped it twice across Jim’s wrists, then twice between them, taking care to make sure each pass of the cord was lined up and parallel. Sebastian loved the look of a well-tied restraint on his lover, and he knew the longer he took, the more frustrated Jim would get. He slid a finger beneath the binding to check it wasn’t too tight and then secured it with a quick-release knot.

Jim made a small whimpering sound in the back of his throat and Sebastian grinned. Oh, he was enjoying this. He popped the cap on the lube bottle (earning another whimper from Jim), and slicked his fingers. With one hand, he tilted Jim back until his shoulders were leaning against Sebastian’s chest. Jim’s bound hands brushed Sebastian’s erection, causing a shiver to travel the length of Sebastian’s spine.

His mouth was on Jim’s neck again as his slick fingers started to tease at Jim’s hole. He sucked hard at Jim’s jaw line and pushed two fingers inside. Jim really didn’t need much preparation at all, but Sebastian loved doing this. And, judging by the breathy sounds that were escaping from Jim’s mouth, he was rather fond of it as well. Jim’s fingers danced along Sebastian’s cock as best they could, teasingly.

Sebastian sucked on Jim’s earlobe as he worked his fingers in and out of his lover. A deep stroke along Jim’s prostate had him sucking in a hiss of breath. “All right, enough already. Come on Sebastian, I need you…”

“So impatient tonight,” Sebastian said with a slap to Jim’s ass.

“You aren’t the only one who’s been thinking about this all day, tiger.” Jim’s voice rumbled like dark thunder and Sebastian’s eyes momentarily lost focus at the sound.

He pushed Jim forward, supporting his chest as he helped him down onto the bed, still kneeling, leaving that gorgeous ass up in the air. Sebastian ran his hands along Jim’s arms from his shoulders down to the ropes binding his wrists. He tugged a bit at the restraint, mostly to remind Jim who was in control, but also to appreciate the feeling of smooth nylon beneath his fingers. One of these days he’d have to get Jim to sit still long enough to tie a properly complex binding.

Finally, unable to wait any longer, he slicked his cock with a few quick strokes. Sebastian settled his hands on Jim’s hips, lined himself up and pushed in hard and fast in one fluid motion in exactly the way he knew Jim liked. He was rewarded with a loud cry of sheer pleasure at the pain.

After a few seconds to catch his breath and run a reassuring hand along Jim’s side to make sure he was okay, Sebastian started moving, rolling his hips forward and finding a comfortable, slow rhythm. “What were you doing in the city today?” he asked after a minute or two of slow, deep thrusts.

“That’s none of – _yes, like that_ – your concern right now.”

“Come on, give me a hint at least,” Sebastian said, pushing into Jim completely and pausing his movements. Jim wriggled his hips in frustration, but Sebastian kept a firm grip on him with his powerful hands. “I’m waiting,” he said.

“Oh for fuck’s sake…”

“In this instance, literally.”

Jim growled. “I was meeting with representatives from Desert Tactical Arms to discuss the DTA Hard Target Interdiction rifle chassis I ordered for you, now _move,_ ” he said in one quick breath.

Oh bloody hell, he loved it when Jim talked weaponry. Sebastian couldn’t help it. His hips bucked and his rhythm was faster when he started moving again. “I didn’t think the HTI… was available for civ… civilian purchase yet…” he managed to choke out.

“Love, when have we ever been considered civil?”

“Point.” After a few more quick thrusts, Sebastian pulled out so he could roll Jim onto his back. He spread Jim’s legs, settling himself between his thighs. He leaned over to capture Jim’s mouth with his own as he pushed back in. Jim arched his back and hooked his legs around Sebastian’s waist, trying to find the angle he needed.

The time for conversation was over. Jim was quickly reduced to nonsensical mumblings on each thrust of Sebastian’s hips, and Sebastian was doing his best to explore every inch of Jim’s chest, neck and mouth with his tongue and his teeth.

He leaned on his elbows on either side of Jim’s head, resting their foreheads together and stealing kisses between thrusts. He was staring directly into Jim’s eyes… beautiful brown slivers encircling impossibly black pupils blown wide with lust. He could get lost in those eyes. He often did.

“Touch me,” Jim was saying, begging. Sebastian just shook his head. “Sebastian, I need you…”

“Not yet,” Sebastian breathed. He was close, so close, but he wouldn’t give in yet. Not until he heard it.

Jim’s teeth were on Sebastian’s shoulder as he let out a guttural sound of frustration. “Fuck you, touch me, I need your hand…”

He could hear the desperation in Jim’s voice, but it wasn’t enough yet. He quickened the thrust of his hips as he growled a single syllable, “No.”

Jim’s eyes were wild as he arched his back, searching for friction, anything, anything to just get him over the edge because this was just pure torture. “Bastian, baby, _please_ baby, I need you… oh _God…_ ”

And there it was. Sebastian knew Jim was completely unhinged when he was reduced to calling out to deities he didn’t even believe existed. Sebastian’s hand was immediately between them, stroking Jim’s cock in quick movements.

“Fuck, yes, yes… _Jesus,_ babe I’m…” Jim came with a strangled cry. That sound was all Sebastian needed and with one final thrust he buried himself in his lover and everything went blank.

When his brain came back online, he was aware of Jim’s mouth on his own in a desperate, needy kiss. Sebastian rolled them both onto their sides so he could release Jim’s arms, and then there were suddenly hands all over his body, touching, feeling, reassuring. They were both muttering phrases and sentiments between the crash of lips and teeth, but the actual words themselves mattered little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love to Hannah (y'all should know her URL by now <3) for continuing to be the most awesome Beta I never asked for and my MorMorBFF 5ever.
> 
> The next chapter (surprise! It turned out to be six!) is more of little epilogue/after scene and will be posted right away.


	6. Decrescendo

**_11:36pm_ **

Sebastian padded out of the bathroom, barefoot in a tight black tshirt and his pajama bottoms, hair still damp from their recent shower. Jim was already in bed, buried beneath the covers and one of Sebastian’s old t-shirts that was far too big for him. Sebastian slid into the bed and Jim immediately latched onto his side, settling his head on Sebastian’s chest.

Bringing an arm around Jim’s shoulder, Sebastian threaded his fingers through Jim’s hair, soft from that ridiculous imported Russian conditioner he used. Jim traced patterns along the cotton stretched across Sebastian’s stomach, following the lines of muscle beneath. They spent a good many minutes in quiet contentment, both exhausted but unwilling to give in to unconsciousness just yet.

“I’ve wanted to ask, love,” Sebastian said finally, quietly. “Why’d you have me go out to NIMR?”

“What d’you mean?” Jim asked, voice muffled.

“You know what I mean,” Sebastian answered, catching Jim’s hand and bringing it up to his lips to kiss along his knuckles. “You could have sent anyone to check on that laboratory – it wasn’t exactly high-stakes stuff.” Sebastian waited, but it didn’t seem like Jim was going to answer. He sighed and contented himself with massaging Jim’s hand with his own.

Several minutes later, Jim mumbled something that Sebastian couldn’t quite catch.

“Hmm? What was that, babe?” Sebastian asked.

“I said I knew it’d be something you’d like,” Jim said with a yawn, rolling his eyes.

Sebastian chuckled. “You could have just told me that, y’know.”

Jim smiled up at him. “Where’s the fun in that?” He stretched up to place a warm kiss to Sebastian’s lips before settling back against him and closing his eyes. “G’night, Bastian.”

“Night, my love.”

Sebastian put one arm back above his head, resting it on his pillow. The other he curled protectively around the man at his side. Sebastian glanced down to take in the sight of a calm, quiet, well-fucked Jim Moriarty with his head against his shoulder, his arm around Sebastian’s chest. He allowed himself a few moments to appreciate the feeling of his lover softly nuzzling against him as he drifted off to sleep. The fact that Sebastian alone was able to see this side of him was something he would never – ever – take for granted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So thank you all for all the love you've shown me while I was writing this. This is the longest continuous thing outside of like research papers I've written in... well, honestly probably ever. I've fallen head over heels in love with these boys (can ya tell?), my Murder Husbands, so rest assured there will be more from me. Possibly having to do with a certain trip to Jamaica... ;3
> 
> This honestly probably wouldn't have been completed (and it DEFINITELY wouldn't have been as good) without all the help, prodding, cuddles, tackles, bribery and apologies from a certain [Hannah Baker](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/hannah_baker), who you should know by now writes the amazing collection of fics called [Domestic Bliss](http://archiveofourown.org/works/376506/chapters/614418). Go and read of her Murder Boyfriends because they're lovely and so is she. Separate hearts always for you, love. ,#
> 
> If you want to find me on tumblr, [click here to be taken to my blog](http://taggianto.tumblr.com). Along the top there's links to my fics (there are some little drabbles and ficlets that I haven't posted here just because they're just little snippets) as well as my fandom signature series. My [ask box](http://taggianto.tumblr.com/ask) is always open for prompts or just general silliness, so feel free to drop me a line.
> 
> Thanks again for everything and being so awesome. It can be difficult to sail a fluff ship in the sea of knifeplay and blood that is Mormor, but every day I'm reminded that our little corner of the fandom is fucking awesome.
> 
> <3


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